Syndication

Saturday, June 28, 2008

It's 3:15 and the bell is ringing

When no longer found to other's vision
a beer gets drunk, and assholes get punked
signs get started and poems get thunk
wildmagic blooms in stars above
wild hearts loom the magic of love

When a beer gets drunk and assholes are getting punked
mankind is better for it
nuff said
except that perhaps nothing comes for free
when one tries to build a better futurosity

When signs get started and poems get thunk
consciousness is harkened to foam at the front
erasers get nibbled, conformity funked
and wheels get driven past driveling frivility
making what one prays to be a better day

When wildmagic blooms in stars above
constellations wave back and footsteps glow
doorways appear and overgrowth folds
sanctuary holds for your souls sojourn
past delusion, past preoccupation, and straightjackets alive otherwise.

When wild hearts loom the magic of love
glamours wished become reality
while perhaps nothing comes for free
the wheels get driven past driveling frivility
in striving for heaven for who wouldn't want to
when wild hearts loom the magic of love

Options of Perception


When a man/woman/or child is freed
truth is tasted
in every mouth food is richer
in every mind idea's picture
The horizon's eye becomes broader hotter
no longer lost to other's vision

When truth is tasted
the lasting pride of heaven's abode
opens doors to minds forlorn
thrusting freewill upon one's rill
Letting one cut one's bank a little deeper
Letting your soul to run a little thicker

When every mouth tastes the food richer
more hope is born in souls sojourn
more burden furlowed, more strength observed
more keen of eye, more rich the pie
when every mouth tastes food richer

When in every mind idea's picture
problem grasped and answered at last
before when and what is wanted played
prepares one for the day of inequalitay
guiding your actions, guiding your prayers

When the horizon's eye becomes broader, hotter
the better you can watch for weather
distance closes, options open
chores get tended, less is broken
plans get made, actions gets played
and the struggle of life get more embayed

When no longer lost to other's vision
your life becomes your own
and the lasting pride of heaven's abode
opens more hope born in souls sojourn
guiding your actions, guiding your prayers
to close the distance and open the doors
when your no longer lost to other's vision

Saturday, June 21, 2008

Shoestring Theory

Laces and the shoes on the street
brace entropy from entreating
sprains, sprungs, springs of sorrow from
the failing hate of gravity

Laced up and tied right the plights
of ankles in the city tonight
hop, dance, bop, shop
in serendipity while securely alight

but one tangle, one poor knot
may throw most into chaos:
broken legs, bent fenders...
society itself has to doctor
what was once thought
a loquacious civility

Tying together financial empires
and used by warmongering liars,
the humble shoestring may be really,
some tool of the devil's hellfire
feeding the flames of eternity
chaining us to the bottom line
through coporate lobbying
Free the Shoestring!

Sunday, June 8, 2008

flight Pan-Am

am I in love
new sets of eyes
that soar the horizon
one kiss at a time

a slip of the worlds
that glide eternity
my reality fading
into the same rut
I had with my last girl

born anew
a toddler in swaddling
same old body
new cup of coffee
spawning wants
of yesterday
yesteryear torn asunder
pieces peeled afeather
to fly a new bird up

but what dark vision
is this
thunder clouds out yonder
now clearly viewed
as illusion of lust
once shattered
patchworks the scenery
abounding under
true love's destruction
having come back together
with patchwork seams
to put blinders on my needs

I soar, preoccupied
by times waning strength
to leave me seeking
that next kiss from the abyss

a glowing cigerette stick
streaks past my reach
darkness has fallen
but new lights guide
my glide in soaring the heights

a spangled sky seeks my soul
and the stars in her eyes
scream louder than the wind
of patchworked illusions of lust's
karmic clockwork death

and I find a tree next to an intersection
the light blinks red and I rest
for minutes on end
finally the dawn arises anew
and with it my soul sojourn